ANONYMITY
AND THE PRESSURES OF PUBLICATION
IN THE EARLY NINTEENTH-CENTURYKathryn Dawes

I

‘An acknowledged novel-writer
is, perhaps, one of the most difficult names to support with
credit and reputation’.
—ELIZABETH SARAH
VILLA-REAL GOOCH,
Preface to Sherwood Forest (1804).

The early nineteenth century saw a ‘sharply rising demand for
cheap print, associated with increases in population and literacy
which occurred all over Europe.’[1] Changing
attitudes in all areas of life after the French Revolution created
a new climate in which fiction could flourish. The reasons for
this influx of literature and subsequent growth of the industry
as a whole are complex and have been carefully studied by scholars
such as Richard D. Altick, Maurice Couturier and Philip Gaskell.
The study of bibliography necessarily focuses on these times of
great change.

There is one area, however, which
only ever merits a couple of paragraphs in any study of the publishing
industry and its authors. Many authors have felt the need to publish
their works anonymously and pseudonymously, but there is little
or no primary evidence or documentation as to their reasons. This
is particularly true of the beginning of the nineteenth century,
which was a time when the novel was still seen as a lower art,
if indeed it merited the title of art form at all. Mary Ann Hanway
refers to ‘all the crude indigestible trash, that load the shelves
of the circulating libraries’ in her preface to Falconbridge
Abbey (1809).[2]
The ‘Advertisement’ in Maria Edgeworth’s Belinda further
shows the reticence of society to accept the fictional literature
being produced at the time:

The following work is offered to the public
as a Moral Talethe author not wishing to acknowledge a
Novel. Were all novels like those of Madame de Crousax, Mrs.
Inchbald, Miss Burney, or Dr. Moore, she would adopt the name
of novel with delight: But so much folly, errour, and vice are
disseminated in books classed under this denomination, that
it is hoped the wish to assume another title will be attributed
to feelings that are laudable … [3]

Many authors avoided stating their ownership of a work because
they were not as celebrated or respected as Edgeworth and thus
were unable to defend their works. Couturier cites Adrien Baillet,
and Halkett and Laing who compiled dictionaries of anonymous and
pseudonymous titles.[4]
Although their texts were published in 1690 and 1882–4 respectively,
they do put forward some interesting reasons for anonymous and
pseudonymous publication which back up some of the ideas that
will be discussed here. Baillet’s foremost reasons are:

‘the love of Antiquity’, ‘prudence’,
‘the fear of disgrace and penalties’, ‘the shame
at producing or publishing something which would be unworthy
of one’s rank or profession’, ‘the intention to sound
the minds on a subject which might seem new’, ‘the fantasy
of hiding one’s low birth or rank’, and ‘the desire’
to hide a name which might not ring well.[5]

For Halkett and Laing the main reasons are ‘diffidence’, ‘fear
of consequences’, and ‘shame’.[6]
These reasons all assume that the author had full control over
whether or not their names were inserted onto a title-page. But
it would seem that publishers had their own ideas. It was the
case that authors often had the choice taken out of their hands
by publishers. In studying the Corvey collection of novels it
becomes clear that there were more reasons for authors remaining
anonymous than a simple reluctance to put a name to a form that
was ‘supposed to be intellectually undemanding … actually distracting
from more “solid” and “improving reading matter .[7] A
whole range of personal and professional reasons come into play
which show an addition to the problems already faced by a nineteenth
century writer.

THE
TITLE-PAGE: A PUBLISHER’S
REALM Why should an author’s name not appear on the title-page
in any form, but appear in a preface, dedication or advertisement?
Why should authors wish to conceal their identity from their readers?
Was it the publishing industry who prevented them? The small amount
of direct evidence available itself creates more questions and
shows the complexity of this burgeoning nineteenth-century industry.
I wish to look at the patterns of anonymous ascription of novels
in the period 1800 to 1809 inclusive, focusing on the novels contained
within the Corvey collection. I am particularly interested in
those texts with prefaces, dedications, subscription lists and
advertisements which add to the information about the author found
on the title-page.

The
Corvey collection provides some good examples from which reasons
for anonymous publication can be speculated upon. From 1800 to
1809 inclusive there are five hundred and twelve novels contained
in the Corvey collection. In this essay I also refer to texts
included in the forthcoming The English Novel, 1770–1829: A
Bibliographical Survey of Fiction Published in the British Isles;
which gives a total of 770 novels for this decade, including those
in Corvey.[8]
The total novels from which the sample is taken is thus 770. Brief
attention to title-pages quickly attests to the fact that many
of the authors in this period wrote totally anonymously and many
more chose to write under pseudonyms. Of these 770 novels, some
forty-three have details of the author’s identity additional to
that found on the title-page. These particular examples have been
chosen because the title-page admits no or only limited detail
on the author, but either a fuller version of the author’s name
(nineteen instances), initials (eleven instances), or an indication
of gender (thirteen instances) appear in another location in the
text. These are three of the four main patterns which can be found
in this samplethe fourth will be discussed later. Other
interesting and significant tendencies are those of pseudonymously
published titles, about which there is no room to discuss here;
and the tendency to exclude a name but have ‘by the author of
…’ or variants thereof on the title-page (of which, within the
limited sample of forty-three alone there are fifteen instances).

In the example of The Castles
of Marsange & Nuger; or, the Novitiate de Rousillon, the
only clue on the title-page is that the novel is ‘By a Lady’.[9]
Yet at the end of the dedication the author or translator signs
her full name: ‘I am, madam, / With all dutiful respect, / Your
Ladyship’s / Most devoted and obedient servant, / HENRIETTA
MARIA YOUNG. / FAVERSHAM,
Sept. 1809.’ This is an example of the first pattern: little or
no information on the title-page, but the full name of the author
placed in a dedication. In 1800 E. M. Foster’s novel Emily
of Lucerne was published.[10]
The title-page reads as follows: A Novel. In Two Volumes. By
the Author of The Duke of Clarence. The only indication of
the identity of the author is in the previously published title,
but in the dedication in the second volume, Mrs Foster signs herself
‘E.M.F’:

To her Royal Highness The Princess
Of Wales.Madam, As the Desire I feel of publicly
avowing the Respect and Esteem I entertain for your Character
is the only Motive which actuates me in dedicating this little
work to your Highness, permit me to indulge the pleasing Hope
that you will not disdain the Liberty I have taken. I am MADAM, With unfeigned Respect, Your Royal Highness’s
Most obedient
humble servant,
E. M. F.

This is an example of the second pattern. Here there is no detail
on the title-page as to the author, but the dedication is signed
with initials. There are eleven instances of this in the sample.

These authors did not wish to be
totally anonymous, yet for various reasons their names did not
appear fully on the title-page. The third pattern is a variation
on the other two, where the author is not named on the title-page
but a preface or dedication indicates the author’s gender. For
example, Adonia, A Desultory Story indicates
no author on the title-page, but the dedication is signed by ‘The
Authoress’.[11]
These three patterns produce many questions about the conventions
of the publishing industry and the status of the author in the
nineteenth century.

PATRONAGE
Foster’s dedication in Emily of Lucerne is a typical example,
offering humble wishes for a ‘little work’. Here the author has
no problems with putting her initials at the end of the dedication.
From
the dedication it would appear that she is seeking the support
of a respected member of the royal class to protect her work.
It was the custom of the time to seek such support, since this
lent authority to the work and provided some refuge from censorship.[12]
Elizabeth Villa-Real Gooch appears on the title-page of Sherwood
Forest as Mrs. Villa-Real Gooch.[13] She
signed her full name to the dedication, addressed to ‘James Wardell,
Esq. Wine merchant, Pall Mall’, again obviously feeling that it
was safe and respectable to do so: ‘With every sentiment of gratitude
of which the feeling mind is susceptible, I subscribe myself,
/ Dear Sir, / Your truly devoted humble Servant, / Elizabeth
Sarah Villa-Real Gooch. / King Street, Hammersmith, April
12th. 1804.’ Gooch wrote, ‘I have never yet ventured upon the
fashionable mode of dedication’hence, at this time dedications
were the custom, and patronage was eagerly sought after. Gooch
obviously felt there was something extra to be gained by dedicating
her novel to this successful wine merchant, even though her work
had previously been well received without the need for such support.
It was a particularly winning formula to enlist a patron if one
was a female writer. Education and literacy was still seen as
a male privilege, and novel-writing generally disdained. Feminine
modesty, delicacy and respectability was very important at the
time. Mary Tuck’s name only appears in small type in the imprint
on the title-page of her 1804 gothic novel Durston Castle;
and it is not declared that she is the author, merely that it
was printed for ‘M. Tuck’, the proprietor of the ‘Circulating-Library
near the Adam and Eve, Peckham’.[14]
Despite this she signs her full name to the ‘Address’ to Lady
Crespigny, a respected patron of the time. Under this guise she
can reveal herself: ‘I have the honour to be, / GENTLEMEN
and LADIES, / Your much obliged and / grateful
servant, / MARY TUCK.
/ Circulating-Library, near the / Adam and Eve, Peckham.’

All these authors found patronage
vital due to the fact that it gave a measure of protection to
their work. A person respected enough in society to be approached
as a patron would not, it was assumed, put their name to an unworthy
piece of work; hence, these novels would have something in their
favour before the reviewers had even looked at them. If for any
reason, the author’s name did not to appear on the title-page,
the dedications, addresses, and so forth gave them an opportunity
to ensure that their name could appear somewhere within the text
itself.

THE
INDUSTRY
Authors were influenced by all the people around them, from family
and friends to the publishers and booksellers with whom they dealt.
In
the first place it is important to understand some of the conventions
of the industry at the time, which acts as a background to the
publishing history of all these texts. Publishers wielded a great
deal of power at the time, and our contemporary cult of the author
was not established. Laws were only just granting basic authorial
rights. In 1774 the House of Lords decided that after twenty-eight
years copyright fell into the public domain. It was not until
1814 that this was modified to twenty-eight years or the life
of the author. From 1800 to the middle of the century, outright
sale of copyright was the most popular method for authors, who
were often poor. ‘When an author sold his copyright to a publisher
he had no further rights in or control over his work, although
publishers sometimes paid a bonus if a book proved unexpectedly
successful.’[15]
Therefore publishers saw the work as their own and as such felt
no obligation to place the author’s name on the title-page. It
was not traditional practice to do so, and the title-page belonged
to the publisher whether or not they owned the rights. In addition,
if a book had not been sold outright, ‘booksellers were often
all too pleased to publish books anonymously; while seemingly
protecting the authors against censorship and the snooping public,
they could claim the books as their property.’[16] Diderot’s
Encyclopédie of 1778 explores anonymity, saying, ‘any writer
who, out of shyness, modesty or scorn for glory, refuses to attract
notice at the beginning of his work deserves to be commended’
but also points out that ‘readers are often too favourably biased
towards anonymous works, and that some writers have artificially
tried to promote the sale of their books by publishing anonymously.’[17]
Publishers as well as writers used this trick. It was not always
modesty or fear of censorship which inclined an author towards
anonymity.

Publishers often placed a lot of
information relating to themselves and the book on the title-page
in the form of an imprint. The following imprint is from the anonymous
The Mysterious Protector, and is an example of the second
pattern: ‘LONDON: / PRINTED FOR GEORGE ROBINSON, / 25,
PATERNOSTER-ROW. / 1805.’[18] There
is no name on the title-page at all, but there is a dedication
signed ‘M. C.’. Despite all the information contained in the title-page
regarding the publisher, there is neither an author’s name nor
a list of previous titles. The names on the title-page belong
to the publisher and Lady Crespigny, to whom the dedication is
addressed, the latter especially implying that such details were
clearly felt to be more important in creating status for the text.

The imprint gave the name of the
publisher/printer, and usually the date and/or place of publication.
As yet the authors name was not an essential feature. Authors
could include their names by putting them at the end of dedications,
introductions, messages ‘To the Public’ and suchlike. If the publishers
would not place their names on the title-pages, authors still
had the power to get them put in under these guises. This was
especially true if a book contained a dedication to a famous and
respectable person, as it would increase the likelihood of the
book’s being well received, and would as such be happily included
by a publisher. Quite often, however, there is no explanation
of why a name is left out totally or only appears as initials
in a preface. These constrictions placed on an author are therefore
difficult to prove from the primary evidence available. Generally
we cannot tell if there was just simple publisher error or the
publishing house’s convention was at work in suppressing the name
from the title-page. The Corvey collection of texts here falls
silentnone of the prefaces contain explanations of problems
encountered with publishers, presumably because this would not
help them in trying to get a book in print! In the dedication
to Falconbridge Abbey, Mary Ann Hanway states: ‘I now offer to the Public, with all an
author’s hopes, an author’s fears. I am therefore most anxious
to procure for it the support and patronage of a Gentleman.’ Hanway
is another example of the fourth major pattern to be discussed
later, her name appearing as ‘Mrs. Hanway’ on the title-page and
her full name in the dedication. It is the fact that patrons were
so sought after that is one of the sole indications that authors
did not or could not turn to publishing houses in support of their
names. Most dedications and prefaces show something of this anxiety
in an industry still dominated by the rule of the publishing trade.
Although patrons would often give some financiad al support as
well as lending their good name to the book, it was the aspect
of protection that made the system of patronage so essential to
the industry and the author. The anonymous Farther Excursions
of the Observant Pedestrian, published in 1801, has an ‘Introductory’
which states ‘without the incitement of a name, or patron to establish
his celebrity’, the earlier Observant Pedestrian (1795)
enjoyed unexpected success.[19]
While a patron was not essential, it was clearly a well established
feature of successful publication, and a guarantee that the author’s
name would appear, if so desired.

In the preface to Falconbridge
Abbey, Hanway remarks ‘[she] boldly ventured to launch my
little skiff on the tremendous ocean of criticism … those sunken
rocks, denominated the Reviewers!’ Reviewers in journals such
as the Critical Review were greatly feared, their word
being relied on as a guide to suitable reading matter. Not putting
a name to the work meant that one could hide gender, class and
family associations which might colour a reviewer’s judgement.
Most reviewers were male, and there was a ‘notorious critical
double standard’ with regard to female women novelists.[20]
The aforementioned anonymous author of the Pedestrian was
taken for a man’s work and praised it as such: ‘but how will they
be surprised to learn, that the subject is the sole effusions
of a female pen’. This carefully emphasised ‘female’ and the general
tone shows an author amused at the tyranny of men (and especially
that of the reviewers) being somehow violated, but also indicates
that she would have not expected such a favourable reception were
she to declare herself fully. Authors used every trick in their
power to protect and promote their books, and if the easiest way
was to remain anonymous, it could prove well worth it.

Anonymity as a deliberate ploy
could be perpetrated and used by publishers as well as authors.
The use of a name or title similar to an already successful one
could confuse the trade and the public into buying a work. For
example, the Corvey collection contains A Winter In Bath and
A Winter At Bath, both published in 1807.[21]
Both have been attributed to Mrs E. G. Bayfield, actually the
author of A Winter At Bath only. The first title was published
anonymously, and the second edition contains a statement complaining
that the title of A Winter At Bath was changed ‘with a
view to profit by the popularity of their Novel’. This was done
‘without her [Mrs. Bayfield’s] knowledge and consent’ by J. F.
Hughes, the publisher. Clearly publishers were not averse to playing
games to sell books, as is still done today with pseudonyms that
fit next to famous authors on bookshop shelves, and other ploys.
This is an example of publisher’s intervention rather than authorial
choice in the use of anonymity. It is also possible that different
types of books were sold anonymously or pseudonymously to try
out a new type of plot or genre without the risk of destroying
an established author’s name. For example, Mrs Meeke published
eight novels as ‘Gabrielli’, and ‘On the whole … the novels written
under the name of Gabrielli tend to be more daring and lavish
in their settings than those published under Mary Meeke’s own
name’.[22]
Anonymity could allow an already established writer a new freedom
to try ‘daring’ plots and experiment with other features.

A SOCIETY
OF RULES
There were also personal and family reasons why an author may
want to remain anonymous. As well as the opinions of reviewers,
authors had to face the reactions of their own families to their
work. If there was anything trashy or radical about their work
they would be happy to hide their authorship. Male relatives especially
would still look down on the genre, more so if the author was
a woman. The profession was not very respectable one yet, and
even if publishers were often gentlemen, authors still had a more
precarious existence. It may be that writing novels was below
their class, or prevented by modesty. Titled persons could be
published under shortened names, such as the Comtesse Stéphanie-Félicité
de Genlis, whose works were published in English translations
under ‘Madame de Genlis’. The genre was not respectable enough
to be written by a titled lady. Dedications sometimes name no
author, but do name a family member as a sort of guarantee of
good reception, like using a patron. Authors often simply didn’t
look for fame. For many it would not have been of the right sort
at all, the status of the novel still being what it was. It was
still considered indelicate to write ‘mere’ fiction. Fanny Burney’s
diaries record her thoughts on her success, and any ‘congratulations
on her achievement she regarded as a most shocking display of
coarseness’.[23]
It was still the case that ‘very often authorship was an open
secret, but it was supposed to remain unacknowledged nevertheless’.[24]
In general, authors seemed to feel that it was best to be cautious
and not declare authorship if there was any reason for doubt.

The enigma of anonymity may also
have been a factor in anonymous publication. Richardson enjoyed
the privilege of mystery and romance surrounding his epistolary
novels, until forced by pirates to declare his ownership. ‘Not
only did anonymity boost the authenticity of the manuscripts found
and their realistic effect, but it guaranteed the inaccessibility
and semi-godlike status of the author.’[25]
Richardson also wrote anonymously because at this time narrative
devices were still in their infancy: as Couturier notes, ‘[i]n
the eighteenth century, one was evidently too close to the oral
era when the storyteller was often both the author and the narrator
of the story. It would have been self-defeating, it seems, for
a novelist to sign his work when that work was supposed to be
written by a narrator or a set of characters.’[26]
It was also the case that first-person narratives were still understood
to narrate actual events pertaining to the author. None of the
title-pages of Tristram Shandy include the name of the
author. This was partly because Sterne was a minister and as such
‘might have hesitated to sign such a risky novel … but above all
because Tristram Shandy, like Moll Flanders, was
written in the first person by the eponymous character.’[27]
Authors may have enjoyed the benefits of anonymity and also understood
to a certain extent the constraints posed by these narratorial
problems.

With the novel gaining in popularity
it was becoming more acceptable to be an author, and thus more
names appeared on title-pages. Publishers had great power in this
area and there were many reasons why they would not print the
author’s name on the title-page. But authors themselves were still
often reluctant to declare themselves, and placed their names
in initial form in a preface or dedication. The examples from
Corvey show that there was still no consensus within the industry
and no standard. Authors and publishers followed the rules of
society rather than bibliographical convention in this area, and
left little or no explanation for decisions regarding these patterns.
In the main part, a lack of authorial power hindered the development
of the title-page as we know it, which will always contain a name.

THE
‘MRS’ PATTERN
The fourth major pattern related to anonymous publication discovered
within the Corvey collection foregrounds the role of gender.
Out of the forty-three texts fitting into the categories already
explained, sixteen title-pages form a subset, each text containing
exactly the same form of authorial inscription. The author’s name
appears on the title-page as ‘Mrs. …’, ‘Miss …’, and once only
‘Madame …’: for example, in Falconbridge Abbey; there is,
however, more information (either initials, full name or indication
of gender) in prefaces, dedications, and the like. Hanway is a
perfect example of this last category; appearing as ‘Mrs. Hanway’
on the title-page of Falconbridge Abbey, she subscribes
her full name to the novel’s dedication: ‘SIR,
/ Your obliged Friend, / And obedient Servant, / MARY ANN HANWAY.
/ Blackheath, / December 15, 1808.’ The reasons
for the large proportion of these forms of title-page are specifically
linked to the female gender of the author, and thus refer to the
role of women in nineteenth-century society.

The use of the married name on
the title-page in itself is fairly unremarkable. Authors were
gaining more rights and as such there were steadily more names
appearing on the title-pages. This form could have been purely
the correct mode of address tacitly agreed on in the industry.
Women were becoming more educated and the newly leisured middle
class woman had time to spare for this activity of reading novels.
Novels were seen as a suitable diversion for a woman, but they
were not taken seriously. Gary Kelly tells us, ‘Women were supposed
to be the main producers and consumers of fiction, and fiction
was supposed to be intellectually undemanding (therefore, it was
supposed, fit for women’s lesser intellectual capacities)’.[28]
In her preface to The Irish Guardian, Anna Maria Mackenzie
notes that ‘[t]he Author perceives she cannot conclude without
paying a feeble tribute of praise to those male writers, who have
thought it no degradation of their dignity … to … improve and
amuse in the form of a novel.’[29]
The novel was still thought of as a trivial amusement for ladies,
and an improper profession: Mackenzie further states that literature
‘cannot be the business of a woman’s life, and it ought not to
be’. Writers such as Elizabeth Gaskell ‘supported the view that
writing must take place only after familial responsibilities had
been fulfilled.’[30]
It was often the case that the occupations of governess and schoolteacher
were the only ones available to women, so some turned to writing
to support themselves. For example, Mary Tuck in the ‘Address’
to Durston Castle asks her reader to ‘view me struggling
with a variety of disappointments, employing my pen to preserve
a young family from immediate distress’. The fact that Tuck has
almost to apologise for her circumstances and occupation as proprietor
of a ciculating library and a writer, shows that this profession
was still not considered socially acceptable, hence the use of
a respectable married name or total anonymity on the title-page.

It seems that the women writers
of the period were indeed looking for some recognition of their
achievements, for
in all of the sixteen instances of the name appearing as ‘Mrs’,
‘Miss’, or ‘Madame’ on the title-page, the full name or initials
appears elsewhere. These women quite clearly wanted to be recognised
and heard, and they used all the methods outlined above to be
fully identified. In prefaces and dedications they allied themselves
with powerful, often female patrons and signed their names with
pride. As Mary Tuck says in her previously quoted dedication to
Durston Castle, it is an honour to be a writer patronised
and respected: ‘I have the honour to be, / GENTLEMEN
and LADIES, / Your much obliged and / grateful
servant, / MARY TUCK.
/ Circulating-Library, near the /Adam and Eve, Peckham.’
Women continued to display their married names on title-pages,
however, as an extra measure of protection: ‘You know how women
writers are looked down upon. The women fear and hate, the men
ridicule and dislike them’.[31]
Female writers had to be careful not to step outside the strict
bounds of propriety, and as quoted before, ‘very often authorship
was an open secret, but it was supposed to remain unacknowledged
nevertheless’.[32]
Women lived by an intricate set of rules, and were absolved of
the necessity to think and decide for themselves. Literary ambition
was considered indelicate, as described earlier in the case of
Fanny Burney whose diary detailed her shock at mention in public
of her achievements. Literary ambition in a woman was regarded
as an impertinence and led to terrible scourgings. It was considered
indelicate for a woman to write her name on the title-pagea
taboo which was carefully observed, although sometimes we find
that a signed preface is not considered inconsistent with a title-page
that admits nothing. Such a fact has some significance in light
of the Corvey collection, but it seems in truth that a married
name was acceptable in this decade, while a full name still considered
too forward a declaration of authorship for a woman.

Many title-pages in fact admitted
no name, but gave a clear indication as to the origins of the
text. The sample of only forty-three novels studied here includes
fifteen instances from 1800–9 where the novel has ‘by the author
of …’ on the title-page. This convention seemingly suited the
publishers’ aims as well as the authors, and of these fifteen,
ten texts have other information regarding the author’s identity
elsewhere in the book, in the form of prefaces, dedications, etc:
see, for instance, the title-page of Woman: Or, Ida of Athens
(illustrated). While in this example the name ‘Miss Owenson’ appears,
it was often the case that there would be no name on the page.[33]
Owenson signs her dedication to this novel with her full name,
Sydney Owenson, and is a variant of the ‘Mrs’ pattern. It seems
that a list of her previous acheivements on the title-page was
more important than her full name as the author.

The use of the marital name reinforces
the patriarchal line of descentthe woman is defined in relation
to her husband: ‘women were constructed not as independent but
as relational beings, therefore the individual ethos was problematic’.[34]
Marriage at the time was still very much a set of rigid constrictions
placed on a woman: ‘the very being or legal existence of the woman
is suspended during marriage, or at least is incorporated and
consolidated into that of the husband’.[35]
Did these women want to break away from this to a certain extent,
to find their own identity and their own sphere of discourse?
They seemed to find a channel in the ‘novels of manners, sentiment
and social emulation’ while men wrote ‘novels of ideas’ or philosophical
novels.[36]
Novel writing gave women a certain amount of power, ‘women could
participate in public life and national issues under the guise
of writing “mere” fiction’, and there was an overlap in the issues
covered in books by female authors.[37]
To provide a sense of their own identity they used their full
names or initials, pointing to the woman behind the marital name,
the ‘Mrs’ on the title-page. Women were beginning to be ‘agents
of change’, functioning on their own terms in a male world.[38]
At the time there was much debate over ‘the woman question’exactly
how much education and influence it was proper to allow women.
Women argued that as mothers of the next generation they were
the first line of education, and should thus be able to read and
reason for themselves. Some of the texts published ‘subvert masculine
control … quietly giving emphasis to female capability’.[39]

Sensibility and passivity were
still very much moral markers for women, but women writers were
creating their own space for self expression. These women of the
1800s conformed to the expression of their identities as a reference
to their husbands, but beyond the title-page they used their own
words and signed their names with increasing autonomy. There was
still a great deal of concern to present an acceptable face to
the reviewers. Critics were ‘not kind to women novelists because
they were womenonly because they were humble’.[40]
Mary Tuck, in her ‘Address’ to Durston Castle, humbly asks
for leniency, ‘I hope, also, the critic will spare this first
attempt, in commiseration of the misfortunes we have encountered.’
Reviewers tended to be male and often trivialised the novel form,
calling it out of control. They did not take the genre very seriously,
and ‘the standard of criticism applied to the novel in the eighteenth
century was a further encouragement to the female pen’.[41]
Although this refers to the eighteenth century, these values were
still clearly at work in the early nineteenth, and ‘contemporary
reviewers read fiction and poetry according to their own gender
stereotypes … praised when it conformed to feminine ideals’.[42]
This is shown by the rise in numbers of the female novelist, and
the increasing use of some form of name placed on the title-page
or elsewhere. But women were still nervous of facing their reviewers,
and prefaces often defended the text and asked for approval. It
was still the case that fiction was ‘a reflection of the conventions
which a certain level of society chose’.[43]
Thus, women still had to align their pride in their achievements
with their duty as women and the ideas of propriety. This might
mean they would use initials only and not risk a full declaration.
However radical some of these women may have been, they still
operated in a patriarchal society where the opinions of related
and respected males were paramount to success and reputation.

All four of the patterns discussed
in this study bring to light some fascinating reasons why novels
were published as they were. The influence of the publishing industry
and of the strict society of the time were a minefield to be negotiated
by any author. However, it seems that on top of all these concerns,
it was the female author who also had to battle with the prejudices
that threw up so many barriers to the conduct of women. That these
women succeeded in publishing so many novels, thus gradually widening
their own sphere of education and that of their readers, is an
important development for the gender as a whole. Just as importantly,
their diligence helped to ensure the continuation and growth of
the novel form as a work of art, worthy of the title of literature.

II

TRENDS
IN AUTHORSHIP,
18001829

Fig. 1, below, displays the trends of authorial
ascription throughout the first three decades of the nineteenth
century, and is based on figures from ‘British Fiction, 1800–1829:
A Database of Production and Reception’, currently being developed
at the Centre for Editorial and Intertextual Research, Cardiff
University. The figure clearly demonstrates that the two competing
trends during this periodacross the genderswas balanced
between naming oneself on the title-page or not. The use of pseudonyms
forms a constant but marginal approach when compared to other
options.

Fig 1. Authorship on Title-Pages
of New Fiction, 18001829

What is clear, however, is that
anonymity on the title-page was an increasing policy employed
by authors and their publishers, which rose to an incredible 80%
by the end of the period chartedthis most obviously anticipates
what was to happen in the earlier fiction market of the Victorian
era. Anonymity in the decade discussed in this paper, however,
falls from an almost even keel with naming oneself at the start
of the decade to a low-point of 27.5%slightly over half
the 54.3% of 1800. The fall in anonymity seems commensurate to
the rise in actual production during this decade, which peaked
during the imprint year of 1808 with 111 new titles.

However, the latter half of the
1800s saw the rise of a number of salacious and scandalous titles
which shortly led to critical hostility towards the novel genre.
This tendency was somewhat checked by the Evangelical phenomenon
which occurred in polite fiction, most potently during 1808–14.
The attempt to make the novel a ‘proper’ vehicle for moral expression
in the context of a youthful readership coincides with the remarkable
peaking of anonymity around 1811–12, occurring precisely while
the Evangelical incursion was at its height. Despite this rather
short-lived inclination towards excessive anonymity in new titles,
the trend did continue throughout the 1810s, gradually but consistently.
A more pronounced rise occurs c. 1817–18 and continues
unabated from just under 60% in 1818, to 70% in 1826, and finally
at 79.1% by the end of the decade.

In terms of female anonymity, Fig.
2, below, charts the patterns which mark out fictional ascriptions
are somewhat modified. Female-ascribed titles for the 1800s comprise
362 entries out of a total of 770 new titles (i.e. 47%). The decade
starts at a high-point of 56.4% of all female-authored titles
being exhibited anonymously, probably in response to the intense
anti-Jacobin reaction to the novel at the turn of the century.
However, the movement is downwards, falling by the imprint year
1804 to 16.7%, and only beginning to rise in the (Evangelically)
significant year 1812 with 51.5% of female titles being anonymous.

A second drop in anonymity
continues throughout the 1810s, before beginning the marked rise
in the latter half of the 1820s. While the willingness of women
to subscribe their names on title-pages remains remarkably consistent
throughout the three decades, it should be noted that in absolute
terms the slice of the novel-market which female authors actually
maintained fluctuated from decade to decade. Male–female authorship
for gender-identified titles is not too far apart during the 1800s,
on average 47% (female) and 37.5% (male), while in the 1810s women
have the greater dominance (52%) when compared to male authors
(28.8%). This ratio is reversed during the posy-Scottian 1820s,
with male writers comprising 50.8% and women comprising 33.1%.
It becomes clear, then, that despite the fact that women were
in general as willingproportionately speakingto name
themselves on title-pages, the actual appearance of female-authored
works with named ascriptions against the broad canvas of all new
titles was by the 1820s in decline.

Below are included all of the samples employed in this study,
recorded in condensed form from The English Novel, 1770–1829:
A Bibliographical Survey of Fiction Published in the British
Isles by Peter Garside, James Raven and Rainer Schöwering
(Oxford: OUP, 2000; 2 vols.). The examples have been divided
into the three main groups listed discussed in this paper, and
the presence of the fourth groupthe ‘Mrs’ variantis
indicated by an asterisk (*) prefixing the name details. Notes
pertaining to the appearance of signatures, dedications, etc.
have also been included.

Each entry lists the full title,
year of publication, a condensed version of the publisher’s
imprint, and information regarding holdings listed in the Eighteenth-
and Nineteenth-Century Short Title Catalogues [ESTC/NSTC].
The presence of copies in the Corvey Microfiche Edition (CME)
is also indicated when possible. The letters BI before a list
of holding libraries denotes that they are to be found in Britain
and Ireland, and similarly the letters NA denote libraries in
North America. For the purpose of consistency the abbreviations
for holding libraries are the same as those used in the ESTC,
even when the source of the holding is the NSTC. Where the edition
which provides the entry does not appear in the ESTC or NSTC,
this will be denoted by a preceding ‘x’ (e.g. xESTC).

*OPIE, [Amelia Alderson].The Father and Daughter, A Tale, In Prose: with an Epistle
from the Maid of Corinth to Her Lover; and Other Poetical
Pieces. By Mrs. Opie.(London: Printed by Davis, Wilks,
and Taylor; and Sold by Longman and Rees, 1801).
C S.727.d.80.29; ECB 423; NSTC O385 (BI O).
* Dedication to ‘Dr. Alderson, of Norwich’, signed ‘Amelia
Opie, Berners Street, 1800’. ‘To the Reader’ expresses apprehension
felt ‘as an avowed Author at the bar of public opinion’
(p. [vi]). Tale ends at p. 206, followed by poems.

*DOHERTY, [Ann].Ronaldsha; A Romance, In Two Volumes. By Mrs. Doherty,
Wife of Hugh Doherty, Esq. Author of The “Discovery; or,
Mysterious Separation.” (London: Published by H. D.
Symonds; and May Be Had of All the Booksellers in the United
Kingdom, 1808). 2 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47442-6; ECB 167; xNSTC.
* Inscription to ‘Thomas Hunter, Esq. and Hannah, his Wife’,
signed ‘Hugh Doherty’. ‘Dedication’, vol. 1, pp. [vii]–xvii,
again signed ‘Hugh Doherty’, and dated ‘4, Melina Place,
Westminster Road’, London, 25 Apr 1808. Preface, vol. 1,
pp. [xxi]–xlv, also signed ‘Hugh Doherty’. ‘Apology’, at
the end of vol. 2, pp. 259–62, signed and dated like the
Dedication. This is followed by an adv. for a new edn.,
‘just published’, of ‘The Discovery; or, the Mysterious
Separation of Hugh Doherty, Esq. and Ann, his Wife’.

[RICKMAN, Thomas ‘Clio’].Atrocities of a Convent, or the Necessity of Thinking
for Ourselves, Exemplified in the History of a Nun. By a
Citizen of the World. (London: Printed by and for Clio
Rickman; and to Be Had of All Booksellers, 1808). 3 vols.
12mo.
CLU-S/C PZ 2.1.A882; xNSTC.
* Vol. 3 contains at end 4pp. (unn.) advs. headed ‘Also
written [sic] and published by Thomas Clio Rickman’.
This list contains works which are known to have been authored
by Thomas ‘Clio’ Rickman (1761–1834), who was also featured
in a contemporary portrait by Robert Dighton as ‘A Citizen
of the World’ (see DNB). The attribution of this rare novel
to him has apparently not been previously made [i.e. until
the publication of English Novels, 1770–1829].

*MACKENZIE, [Anna Maria].The Irish Guardian, or, Errors of Eccentricity. In Three
Volumes. By Mrs. Mackenzie. (London: Printed for Longman,
Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1809). 3 vols. 12mo.
BL 1153.i.17; ECB 360; NSTC M344 [1811 as Almeria D’Aveiro;
or, the Irish Guardian (Corveya reissue by A.
K. Newman, with same colophon), CME 628-48094-9].
* Preface, vol. 1, pp. [i]–iv, signed Anna Maria Mackenzie,
reads: ‘The Author perceives she cannot conclude without
paying a feeble tribute of praise to those male writers,
who have thought it no degradation of their dignity […]
to […] improve and amuse in the form of a novel’ (p. iv).

*OWENSON, [Sydney] [afterwards MORGAN, Lady Sydney].Woman: Or, Ida of Athens. By Miss Owenson, Author of
The “Wild Irish Girl,” The “Novice Of St. Dominick,” &c.
In Four Volumes. (London: Printed for Longman, Hurst,
Rees, and Orme, 1809). 4 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-48374-3; ECB 396; NSTC O738 (BI BL, C,
E, O).
* ‘To the Public’, vol. 1, pp. [iii]–vii signed ‘Sydney
Owenson’ and dated Dublin, 18 Nov 1808. This carries a footnote
which states: ‘The “Wild Irish Girl” was written in six
weeks; the “Sketches” in one; and “Woman,” though I had
long revolved its plan and tendency in my mind, and frequently
mentioned it in society, was not begun until the 20th of
last July. It was written at intervals, in England, Wales,
and Ireland, and almost always in the midst of what is called
the world. It was finished on the 18th of October, and is
now printed from the first copy’ (p. vn).

WILLIAMSON, T[homas].The Dominican; a Romance: Of Which the Principal Traits
Are Taken from Events Relating to a Family of Distinction,
Which Emigrated from France during the Revolution. By Captain
T. Williamson, Author of The Wild Sports of the East. In
Three Volumes. (London: Printed for Longman, Hurst,
Rees, and Orme, 1809). 3 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-48930-X; ECB 640; NSTC W2178 (BI BL).
* Dedication ‘to His Most Christian Majesty, Louis XVIII.
King of France and Navarre’ signed ‘Thomas Williamson’,
dated London, 5 Feb 1809.

[YOUNG, Henrietta Maria (trans.?)].The Castles of Marsange & Nuger; or, the Novitiate
de Rousillon. A Tale, Altered from the French by a Lady.
In Which Is Introduced the History of Paulina & Isabella.
By the Translator. In Three Volumes. (Faversham: Printed
and Sold by Warren; Sold in London by J. Richardson; B.
Crosby and Co.; and the Other Booksellers, 1809). 3 vols.
12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47220-2; ECB 101; xNSTC.
* No French original discovered. Dedication ‘to the Right
Hon. Lady Sondes’ signed ‘Henrietta Maria Young’, Faversham,
Sept 1809. Preface signed ‘The Translator’.

B. Initials

ANON.Tales of Truth. By a Lady. Under the Patronage of the Duchess
of York. In Four Volumes. (London: Printed by T. Plummer,
for R. Dutton, 1800). 4 vols. 8vo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-48874-5; EM 1279: 10; ESTC n013589 (NA MH-H,
NjP).
* Dedication to the Duchess of York signed ‘E. H.’.

[EARLE, William (jun.)].Obi; or, the History of Three-Fingered Jack. In a Series
of Letters from a Resident in Jamaica to His Friend in England.
(London: Printed for Earle and Hemet, 1800). 1 vol. 12mo.
ViU PR.3431.E171800; ESTC t176735 (BI BL, Lics; NA NjP, PU).
* ‘Advertisement’ signed ‘W. E. J.’.

[FOSTER, Mrs E. M.].Emily of Lucerne. A Novel. In Two Volumes. By the Author
of The Duke of Clarence. (London: Printed at the Minerva-Press,
for William Lane, 1800). 2 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47563-5; ESTC n030766 (NA PU).
* Dedication in the 2nd vol. after t.p. ‘to Her Royal Highness
the Princess of Wales’ signed ‘E. M. F.’.

[FOSTER, Mrs E. M.].Frederic & Caroline, or the Fitzmorris Family. A Novel.
In Two Volumes. By the Author of Rebecca, Judith, Miriam,
&c. ( London: Printed at the Minerva-Press, for William
Lane, 1800). 2 vols. 12mo.
BL 12613.aaa.11; CME 3-628-47838-3; EM 199: 2; ESTC t068576
(NA CaAEU).
* Dedication ‘to Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales’,
signed ‘E. M. F’. The Dedication is not found in the Corvey
copy of this title.

*HATFIELD, Miss [S.].She Lives in Hopes; or, Caroline. A Narration Founded Upon
Facts. By Miss Hatfield, of Manchester. (By Permission) Dedicated
to Her Royal Highness the Princess of Orange and Nassau. In
Two Volumes. (London: Published for the Authoress, and
Sold by Parsons and Son, Vernor and Hood, Carpenter and Co.
[…] Clarks, Bancks, and Thomson, Manchester; and Merritts
and Wright, Liverpool, 1801). 2 vols. 12mo.
BL 12611.bbb.17; ECB 258; NSTC H870.
* Dedication signed S. Hatfield, London, 16 Apr 1801.

*ROBERTS, Mrs [D.].Delmore, Or Modern Friendship. A Novel. In Three Volumes.
By Mrs. Roberts. (London: Printed for the Author, and
Sold by R. Faulder, 1806). 3 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-48653-X; xNSTC.
* Dedication ‘to Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales’
signed D. Roberts, Clarence Place.

*BUTLER, [Harriet].Count Eugenio; or, Fatal Errors: A Tale, Founded on Fact.
By Mrs. Butler. In Two Volumes. (London: Printed for J.
F. Hughes, 1807). 2 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47149-4; ECB 89; xNSTC.
* Dedication ‘to a Member of the British Senate’, dated May
1807’ and signed ‘H. B.’.

[FOSTER, Mrs E. M.].Concealment, or the Cascade of Llantwarryhn. A Tale. In
Two Volumes. By the Author of Miriam, Judith, Fedaretta, &c.
(London: Printed at the Minerva-Press, for William Lane, 1801).
2 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47307-1; ECB 129; xNSTC.
* ‘To The Reader’ (unnumbered) refers to ‘The authoress of
the ensuing work’.

ANON.The History of Netterville, a Chance Pedestrian. A Novel.
In Two Volumes. (London: Printed by J. Cundee, […] for
Crosby and Co., 1802). 2 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47672-0; ECB 273; NSTC N578 (BI O).
* Dedication, signed ‘The Authoress’, describes this as a
‘second attempt in the region of fiction’.

ANON.The Mysteries of Abruzzo, by the Author of the Child of
Doubt, &c. In Two Volumes. (London: Printed by and
for R. Cantwell; and Sold by Hughes, 1802). 2 vols. 12mo.
No copy of 1st edn. located; ECB 403; xNSTC.
* Details above replicate Corvey 2nd edn. (CME 3-628-48177-5),
where ‘Advertisement’ indicates female authorship. Eliza
Beaumont and Harriet Osborne; or, The Child of Doubt (1789)
is by Indiana Brooks, but apart from the similarity of the
subtitle no evidence has been discovered about the authorship
of this title.

ANON.Amasina, or the American Foundling. In Two Volumes. Dedicated
by Permission to Lady Cotter. (London: Printed at the
Minerva-Press, for Lane, Newman, and Co., 1804. 2 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47052-8; ECB 14; NSTC A1082 (BI O)
* Dedication signed ‘the Authoress’. T.p. attribution later
indicates by the same author as The Soldier of Pennaflor
(1810).

[ROBERTSON, Eliza Frances].Destiny: Or, Family Occurrences: An Interesting Narrative.
In Two Volumes. (London: Printed by William Burton. Sold
by Mr. Ryan, near Pantheon, Oxford Street; and May also Be
Had of the Principal Booksellers in the United Kingdoms; and
at All the Circulating Libraries, [1804?]). 2 vols. 12mo.
BL N.1898; NSTC D947.
* Recto following t.p. reads: ‘The Author presents most respectful
Thanks to those Ladies and Gentlemen who did her the Honor
of subscribing for this Work; but being few in number, and
some, from a Wish to conceal their Benevolence, having forbid
their Names to appear, a List of Subscribers is omitted.’
Eliza Robertson was imprisoned for debt, and died in the Fleet
Prison (Jackson).

ANON.The Castle of Santa Fe. A Novel. In Four Volumes. By a
Clergyman’s Daughter, Author of Jealousy, or the Dreadful
Mistake. (London: Printed at the Minerva-Press, for Lane,
Newman, and Co., 1805). 4 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47223-7; ECB 100; NSTC C2390 (BI BL, O).
* Dedication to the Honourable Mrs Ariana Egerton, with a
footnote stating ‘This Dedication was designed for the Press,
by the truly amiable and lamented Author of this Work, a short
time before she—DIED!’. British Library and Bodleian catalogues
list under Cleeve, Miss; though Dorothy BlakeyThe
Minerva Press 17901820 (London: The Bibliographical
Society, 1939)treats both this title and Jealousy
(1802) as anonymous. No further information about Miss Cleeve
has been discovered.

ANON.Forresti; or, the Italian Cousins. A Novel. In Three Volumes.
By the Author of Valambrosa [sic]. (London:
Printed at the Minerva-Press, for Lane, Newman, and Co., 1806).
3 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47824-3; ECB 211; xNSTC.
* ‘P.S.’ at the end of vol. 3 concerning over-severe ‘criticism
upon his last publication’ in the Critical Review 3rd
ser. 11 (May 1807), 96–7: male authorship implied. Writing
about Valombrosa; or the Venetian Nun (London: Minerva
Press, 1805; 2 vols.), Critical Review 3rd ser. 4 (Mar
1805), 329 states: ‘We cannot congratulate this gentleman
(for a male performance it must certainly be) on the slightest
ambition to imitate that delicacy which is one of the many
beauties so profusely scattered over the writings of Mrs Radcliffe’.

ANON.Newminster Abbey, or the Daughter Of O’More. A Novel, Founded
on Facts. And Interspersed with Original Poetry and Picturesque
and Faithful Sketches of Various Countries. In Two Volumes.
(London: Printed by B. Clarke, for J. F. Hughes, 1808). 2
vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-48194-5; NSTC O334 (BI BL).
* Preface, pp. [iii]–iv, implies male authorship.

[PALMER, Alicia Tyndal].The Husband and the Lover. An Historical and Moral Romance.
In Three Volumes. (London: Printed for Lackington, Allen,
and Co., 1809). 3 vols. 12mo.
Corvey; CME 3-628-47679-8; ECB 290; xNSTC.
* Author’s note in vol. 3, pp. 373–4 states: ‘The Author has
endeavoured, in this work, carefully to avoid violating any
important historic fact. She has founded her little tale on
the circumstance of John Sobieski, after ascending the throne
of Poland, having so far acknowledged a son of the Marchioness
de Briscacier to be his, as to exert his influence with Louis
XIV, to confer on that son the title of Duke’. Her note also
calls the novel ‘this first essay of her pen’.

CONTRIBUTOR
DETAILSKathryn Dawes recently completed a BA and an MA
in English Literature at Cardiff University. Her work for the
MA focused on bibliographical and textual studies and also cyberpunk,
a sub-genre of science fiction. She now works as a freelance proof-reader
and copy-editor, and lives in Ceredigion.

Thanks are due to Professor
Peter Garside for help and much pointing-in-the-right-direction
on this essay.